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Saturday, November 21, 2009
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LAURIE SMITH ANDERSON
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Editor’s note: This column marks the final chapter in Laurie Anderson’s chronicle of her life with cancer. She died peacefully Wednesday morning about an hour after her husband submitted this last column.
With a look of contentment, Laurie rests on the couch. Her head in her daughter’s lap, she listens as her son plays her favorite pieces on the guitar and sings to her softly. Sometimes her eyes close, but she’s not asleep. It’s too good of a moment to waste on sleep. I am sleeping upstairs, dreaming fitfully of helping Mom to the bathroom. The dream feels real, her meager weight heavy across my shoulders, her grip frightened and firm on my arm. I waited for my son to answer the phone and surreptitiously hid the bite of beef he had served me. The meat was too much for me to digest, but I didn’t want to offend Casey, who has perfected his specially marinated burgers and grills them regularly for the family. My favorite scene from “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” describes the boys sneaking in to watch their own funeral. It’s probably such a memorable part of Mark Twain’s classic tale because of a universal desire to peek in on the day when people gather to say nice things about us. When doctors diagnosed Laurie with late-stage colon cancer 17 months ago, I asked for a miracle. Since then, we’ve received several miracles. I haven’t always recognized them immediately. Maybe my lack of vision came from the fact that I didn’t receive the specific miracle I first sought. Suspended from a nearly invisible string of its own making, the tiny green worm is unaware of its pending death. From above, a yellow dragonfly circles its prey. In the shallow water below, several bream have spotted the same appetizer. A bream wins. Laurie finally sleeps as a faint glow outside promises the end of a long night. She’ll be too weak to write her column today. I can only pray that she’ll write more. This cycle has repeated itself many times, but when my wife slips into the depths of illness it’s hard to know she’ll pull out. I marvel at her tenacity. Laurie has a will to live that grinds her through nights like the one we’ve just experienced. My daughter’s closest childhood friend died two weeks ago. She was 23 and blessed with a rare combination of wisdom and innocence. She had the ability to see through the crusts people wrap about themselves to the nuggets of goodness inside. She sparked those nuggets to shine and grow. Laurie Anderson was unable to write her column this week. We hope “The Patient Person” will return next week. Many years ago, as a cub reporter, I covered a senior citizens convention in Alexandria that has been forever etched in my mind. The Preservation Hall Jazz Band captivated its audience. The elderly conventioneers got up and danced. Moved by the music, they grew more excited. It was fun watching these “old people” be so animated. |
